After one of the most embarrassing experiences of her life, Viola Hawkins is left feeling hopeless and demoralised. So when she's told that she's able to work as an undercover agent in a boarding school, she's given a new chance to change her life...
And with a short kiss on my head, she leaves, her curly hair bouncing with each step out of the door.
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The light shines through my window pervasively the next morning, a golden stream that brightens the room and forces me to wake up. My phone, lying untouched by my bedside, is still turned off, a portal towards the person I am trying desperately to forget about.
Last night I spent a lot of time thinking. When you're alone, in complete silence, blanketed only by the darkness surrounding you, it's easier to order your thoughts. As much I cowered at the thought of a new life, Mum's words kept ringing through my mind over and over again. She was right, change can be good.
I'm going to agree to Dad's preposition. That isn't to say that I'll like it, or even enjoy it, but who knows what could turn out. I might enjoy acting as a different person.
In the kitchen, Mum is frying up breakfast in her dressing gown, humming to the radio as she cracks two eggs into the pan, blowing a kiss happily when she sees me. Buttery smells waft enticingly towards me as I enter.
Dad, by contrast, is dressed in his uniform with his ready-to-work face on, reading the newspaper and drinking a large steaming cup of tea. Silent, calm, and awake.
Opposites attract, I guess.
I take a seat at the table, crossing my fingers together as if ready for a business proposition. "Dad." I say, clearing my throat.
With his face still obscured by the newspaper, he replies, "Yes?"
"I think I want to do the thing."
He folds the newspaper up with a deadly silence, his bushy eyebrows raised on his stern face. "You think you want to do it?"
I grimace at his reaction. My dad hates indecisiveness more than anything, which is what makes him so good at his job. Quick, fast and sensible choices are his forte. That does, however, mean that we clash sometimes, because that's not a trait I've inherited from him at all. In fact, it's quite the opposite. "Sorry. Um. No – I do want to. Do the undercover work, I mean."
"Alright." He says, pursing his lips. "I'll call you in sick for school. Best we get started on this right away."
My body relaxes. I was hoping that I wouldn't have to go to school today – it was a long shot, but an educated guess. If this was so urgent to Dad, obviously he was going to want to get started on it as soon as possible.
Thankfully, that means I won't have to face Kate again. Call me childish, but I'm just not ready. She'd try and get me to forgive her, and, being the weak pushover that I am, I probably would.
A plate of cooked breakfast is placed under my nose by Mum, who smiles at me and kisses Dad on the cheek, asking him softly, "Are you going to call and make a time to meet them then?"
Dad nods, picking up the phone beside him. "Of course. I'll do it now."
"Who?" I frown, looking between my parents. They share a look – a secretive sort of grimace that tells me something else is being added to the equation that I don't know about.
